King of Anything
by The Silence is Deafening
Summary: Entry for the July prompt, on WillowClan.


**I hope I did alright with this piece… Doubts aside, this particular story was inspired by the song King of Anything, sung by Sara Bareilles.**

* * *

Early, in the middle of Greenleaf, the sun crept over the horizon. Long fingers of pale orange stretched across the sky, grasping at the bruised pinks and purples of the waning night. Clouds, like wisps of smoke, drifted and scattered with the faint breeze, which played in the grass, and twirled in the needles of pine trees. The forest, however, seemed eerily still. The birds did not sing, the frogs did not croak, and the mice did not scurry. It was as if every creature had _sensed_ something. For, there was nothing unusual to smell. There was nothing out of the ordinary to taste. Nothing was amiss to the touch. Hearing would do no good, as everything was holding its breath. And, in the faint light of the dawn, how could anything strange be seen? Yet, by unspoken command, no creature wanted to leave its home. Not on this fine morning.

Even so, it appeared a particular group of creatures hadn't gotten the memo. A pale brown she-cat, with darker tabby markings, sat up in her nest. Her eyes, green— but not marvelous— roved around the dim camp, where she resided. Though the lighting was poor at best, one could see the flash of white on the she-cat's chest, and the black on her ear and tail-tips, which had a smeared sort of quality to them. Bringing one forepaw to her muzzle, the she-cat began to groom herself, as she looked around. There was no use in waking cats; dawn had only just begun to show its colors.

Still, the she-cat wasn't quite sure all was right. Eyes turning to her resting Clanmates, the she-cat examined all who slept in the den, under the bramble thicket. _'Someone's not here…'_ Relaxing, once she realized who was missing, the she-cat allowed a calm thought to pass through her mind, _'It's just Spiderthorn, the new warrior. He must still be jittery.'_ Rising to her paws, to find the poor warrior, the she-cat wriggled out from under the bramble thicket. It was strange, how all of the dens were under patches of bramble… but the she-cat knew better than to question. The camp had served well, which was all she could ask for. Dens aside, the soil underfoot was surprisingly dry; if she tried gripping any of it, it wouldn't pack. Rather, it crumbled back in on itself. The musty scent that followed caused the deputy to wrinkle her nose, and pat the earth back into place.

"Daydreaming, Sprucefeather?" The voice of another cat snapped the she-cat, Sprucefeather, out of her thoughts. Turning her plain, green stare to a black-furred tom, Sprucefeather bit back a retort. The young tom had not yet learned respect, it seemed. On closer inspection, the tom didn't seem to be purely black. There were flecks of ginger running up and down his back, and around his blue eyes were speckles of white. In fact, Sprucefeather was certain she saw bits of gray around his throat. Which, she supposed, would make sense if she'd guessed correctly on his identity.

"Of course not, Spiderthorn," Sprucefeather answered, her voice as cool and collected as always, "Did you plan a stakeout, or something? Dawn has only just graced us."

A laugh greeted Sprucefeather's words, as Spiderthorn sneered out an answer, "No. I merely woke to be sure you were doing your job correctly. Should you not be organizing the dawn patrol?"

Stunned, for a moment, Sprucefeather felt her pelt begin to fluff up, at the challenge. Forcing down a challenge of her own, Sprucefeather answered, "No, I shouldn't. There's no reason to wake warriors up at the crack of dawn; their performance would surely be hindered by exhaustion."

Shrugging, Spiderthorn bit into his half-eaten mouse— how had she not noticed that?— and stared at his deputy, "They could easily take a nap, later. Or, perhaps, they're simply not good enough."

Sprucefeather gritted her teeth and unsheathed her claws, but managed to hold her tongue. _'He's not deputy,'_ she reminded herself, _'He can't call any shots. Getting angry isn't worth the trouble. You don't want to let him make you look bad.'_ Despite these reasonings, the pale brown she-cat couldn't help but feel a fire roaring in her blood. Still, she couldn't bring herself to say a word. Instead, she watched the camp, ears pricked. Overhead, the sky had been bleached pink, with golden beams piercing through, valiantly.

"Everyone has opinions," Sprucefeather meowed, her voice dangerously cold, "After all, everyone is entitled to them… But I never asked. I don't need help with being a deputy." Eager to put Spiderthorn behind her, Sprucefeather loped over to the warriors den, and carefully woke a few of her warriors. She'd wasted enough time, and spared her Clanmates little time to eat. Faint blue hues had just started settling in, as the border patrol gathered together, ready to head out.

"I see they're… one cat short." Spiderthorn commented, his eyes disapproving. Yet, Sprucefeather thought, behind that "concern" in his gaze, was a hint of pride. He thought he'd won.

Straightening up, Sprucefeather smirked, "I know; I'm not an old, senile cat. That's why you're going with them," Turning away from the young tom, Sprucefeather examined the fresh-kill pile, for the first time that morning. Picking out a frog, she slid her green eyes back to Spiderthorn, "I'm not drowning," At his confused look, she continued, "There's no one here to save. So stop trying, and hurry up. You're slowing us down." Staring, proudly, at his angry and disbelieving expression, Sprucefeather couldn't help but feel undeniable satisfaction. Who cared if he disagreed? He was no deputy; he was powerless against her. And yet… he was barely a warrior, and acting like some sort of clan leader. Stormstar wasn't yet dead, and neither was she… so, who was he to act superior?

:)***(:

With the border patrol well on its way, Sprucefeather deemed it fit to organize a hunting patrol. Knowing much of the Clan would soon rouse itself, it was important to gather some truly fresh meat, lest there be serious discontentment, "Petalbreeze, Tallstripe, Acornpaw! We're going hunting!" Sprucefeather called, kneading at the ground with her paws, impatiently. Petalbreeze, a white she-cat with ginger flecks (which, oddly enough, appeared to be more concentrated around her muzzle, before clearing up to the point of being nonexistent on her tail) and bright amber eyes was the first to emerge from the warriors' den. Being Acornpaw's mentor, she bounded over to the apprentices' den to wake the young cat. Just behind her, a long-legged tom with pale gray fur and black stripes criss-crossing all over his pelt followed. His blue eyes traced around the camp, as he strode over to the fresh-kill pile.

Out of nowhere, he spoke, "This may take a while. Acornpaw is rather lazy, isn't she?" Ears pricked and expectant, Tallstripe looked through the prey gathered, from the night before. His lip curled in disgust as he plucked a mouse from the top. They weren't necessarily running low on prey; the Clan was, simply, tired of frog and mouse day after day. Admittedly, Sprucefeather's own paws itched for a plump squirrel, run from ThunderClan territory.

"It's not as if she can't be motivated," Sprucefeather disagreed, while trying to keep neutral, "So long as Petalbreeze keeps her eyes on her, Acornpaw will be no trouble." If there was an edge of doubt to the deputy's tone, Tallstripe didn't point it out. But, by silent agreement, both cats agreed Acornpaw wouldn't be easy to work with. Speaking of her, the small she-cat was just trailing after her mentor. She was shorter than most cats of her age, though she matched in length. This, coupled by her dark brown pelt— mottled with darker brown specks— made the yellow-eyed apprentice near perfect for waiting among the shadows.

A look of distaste plastered clear on Acornpaw's face, she snatched a frog off the fresh-kill pile, "Ewww. All we have left are frogs!" Eyes accusing, she glared at Sprucefeather, "Why didn't you send out more hunting patrols? I don't like these stupid… things!"

"I sent out as many hunting patrols as on any other day," Sprucefeather meowed slowly, calmly, "There just happened to be more frogs than anything else, hopping around." Honestly, Sprucefeather wasn't sure what was up with Acornpaw. Granted, she usually let the apprentice sleep in longer, but this was just preparation for when she'd have to get up, as a warrior. What right did she have to be cross?

"That's not what Spiderthorn said!" Acornpaw protested, her short fur fluffed up, reminding Sprucefeather somewhat of a thistle. But, seeing the irritation and confusion in Acornpaw's honey eyes, the deputy knew better than to let her thoughts wander.

Narrowing her green eyes, Sprucefeather questioned, "What did he say?" The deputy hadn't been aware of any slander being talked about her, but the more she thought about it, the more she could suspect the new warrior of tarnishing her name. _'That greedy tom just wants power that does not belong to him!' _Sprucefeather screamed, inwardly. The day had scarcely started, and already she was fed up with Spiderthorn, _'He's the fox in my territory. The badger in my camp. The thorn in my side!' _

"He said you're too lazy to send proper patrols," Acornpaw grumbled, "And I agree! How else would we be stuck with these dumb whatevers?"

'_Smart move, my rival. Go after the young and impressionable; the ones you were once in direct contact with.' _Sprucefeather stared Acornpaw down, as she let her train of thought take her anywhere, _'Who knows how long he's been working on this… he could have been turning the Clan against me since he was apprenticed!' _With a slow shake of her head, the pale brown cat spat, "If you don't want to eat those _frogs, _then we might as well set off now." Spinning around, the irate deputy squeezed through the bramble entrance, without bothering to check if her patrol was following.

Taking good care not to stomp her paws— not even a little— Sprucefeather slunk underneath the limbs of countless trees, ears pricked. Her tail was low to the ground, but not so far as to drag along the forest floor. But where was the prey…? It seemed as if nothing wanted to come out of its den. As if nothing even dared to _breathe. _Finally, a scuttling sound caught Sprucefeather's notice. It was soft, barely noticeable, but the moment she heard it, she had a fix on where it— a mouse— rustled around, looking for seeds. Slowly, carefully, Sprucefeather padded forward. There wasn't a whole lot of foliage to worry about jumping over, but at the same time, that was camouflage lost. Not daring to creep as close as a ThunderClan cat might have, Sprucefeather propelled herself forward with strong back legs. A moment later, the mouse lay dead at her paws.

"Well done!" Petalbreeze praised, as if the deputy was her own apprentice, "I guess someone's going to get lucky, and not eat a frog. Or toad." Purring, Petalbreeze padded up to the carcass and scraped dirt over it, "We can get it later."

"I know." Sprucefeather drawled, icily, "I'm not incapable of hunting. I'm the deputy for a reason, you know." Maybe it was paranoia, maybe it had real justification, but Sprucefeather couldn't help but feel like the Clan was treating her oddly. Like a kit or apprentice, something to be supervised. Not a figure of authority, meant to call the shots. It was an alien feeling, and utterly unnerving. Was her Clan losing faith in her? Was she losing faith in herself?

"Oh!" Petalbreeze squeaked, shuffling her paws. She was younger than Sprucefeather, but not exactly a new warrior, which only added to the lack of discretion, "I didn't mean it like that! I… I…"

"You've been listening to Spiderthorn!" Sprucefeather accused, eyes wide and blazing, "How could you possibly- I can't believe you- Why?" Breathing hard, Sprucefeather hadn't even noticed her claws were buried in the strangely dry soil of the forest.

Gingerly scraping dirt into a small mound, Petalbreeze mumbled, "He just… he seemed so convincing and so… so _sure!_" Looking up with wide, fearful eyes she mewed, "I didn't think you'd… um… that's not what I meant! I, uh, I… I…"

"Save it," Sprucefeather sighed, turning on her heel. Might as well continue hunting… the Clan could use some variety in prey. But, much to her frustration, despite the scent of prey being absolutely _everywhere, _nothing wanted to spring from its den. No matter where Sprucefeather prowled, there was a distinct lack of wandering prey. But, as she neared the ThunderClan border, there was a flash of luck. A black-feathered bird (probably a crow) had just landed, and was pecking at the ground.

Sprucefeather's heart soared, before thumping roughly against her chest. Her own pulse roared against her ears as she slowly, carefully, prowled forward. Just another step, and then she'd spring. In a matter of moments, that bird would be dead, and a great service to her Clan done. Just as she bunched up her muscles, ready to spring, a low clucking hiss came from her left, as well as the distinct sound of stomping paws. With a loud caw, the bird spread its wings and took off, even as Sprucefeather sprung towards it, in a moment of desperation. Slamming onto the unforgiving ground, Sprucefeather clenched her teeth. Who…?

"I'm not surprised in your failure," a familiar voice sneered, "I think you're getting senile." Slowly pulling herself to her paws, Sprucefeather turned to stare directly at Spiderthorn… along with the rest of the border patrol. To her right, her own hunting patrol was bounding over, practically crackling with irritation.

"We heard the crow you let go," Tallstripe meowed, his voice laden with scorn, "You scared off my mouse."

"And my frog!" Acornpaw added, her pelt sticking out in all directions, "Seriously! What kind of awful deputy are you?"

"You were just complaining about frogs!" Sprucefeather spat, before realizing it wouldn't exactly help her position, "Just… get back to hunting!" Snapping her glare back to the patrol, she snarled, "Finish up. And _hurry_! You should have been done by now!" Fuming, the brown-furred cat slunk back into the safety of the forest.

'_Great. I just embarrassed myself in front of a good deal of my Clan, and all because of Spiderthorn.' _Sprucefeather lamented, inwardly, as she trudged within the confines of the shadows,_ 'How could this day possibly get worse?'_

:)***(:

Thankfully, the rest of the day had been rather uneventful. Sprucefeather had done her job as deputy, sending out patrols as needed, and when she went out to hunt, she made sure to go alone. There was no need to embarrass herself further. However, as the sun hung a bit below its throne, at the height of the sky, Spucefeather's good tidings had shifted. She'd been dozing on a rock, after a long stretch of hunting, though her ears were pricked. Growling at the sound of Spiderthorn's voice, Sprucefeather slowly rose to her paws. Her heart fell into her stomach as she saw a crowd of cats around him, eagerly listening to all he had to say. Even Stormstar, old and weary as he was, had slunk out of his bramble-covered den to get a piece of what Spiderthorn had to say.

Scarcely able to breathe, Sprucefeather realized that— for the first time— she regarded the young, dark-furred warrior as a threat. To her, and to the Clan. His lack of experience would be the Clan's undoing, Sprucefeather knew. She knew— or, she thought she knew— so much, she could feel the bitter tangs of the after-effects in her bones. Padding into the crowd as discreetly as possible, and seating herself by a gray tabby, Sprucefeather leaned forward to listen. Surely, nothing he had to say would be as bad as she feared…

"Please, I did not assemble all of you without reason," Spiderthorn meowed, his voice loud and strong. It brimmed with so much pure intention and confidence, Sprucefeather almost doubted herself. But with one look into his cold, blue eyes… she was certain he didn't know what was best for the Clan. He didn't know what ShadowClan needed. "The truth of the matter is that I've discovered a flaw in ShadowClan. The reason we're not at the height of our glory."

Surprised, yet intrigued, murmurs rose throughout the Clan. What could this warrior possibly have figured out? Sprucefeather, on the other hand, felt her stomach collapse on her heart. Spiderthorn meant her, and they both knew it. But Sprucefeather had faith in her own Clan… faith they'd shun his decision, and support her like they did when she first fought for her position.

"That weakness is none other than the cat who's supposed to make us strong… our deputy," Spiderthorn turned his icy stare to Sprucefeather, who fought to keep a strong expression. "What say you, to that?"

"What do I say?" Sprucefeather spoke slowly, fearing her voice would fail her, "I say you're a fool. I've lead this Clan through bad times and good times alike, and I will not-"

"Hold it right there," Spiderthorn's eyes gleamed dangerously, and everything about him seemed to whisper, _'Caught you.' _ Sprucefeather fell silent, against her better judgement, and allowed Spiderthorn to speak his poison, "You say _you've _lead us. What of Stormstar? I think you're clawing for power far beyond you."

"Now you wait just a second-"

"Sprucefeather, I'm offering you a chance," Again, Spiderthorn cut off the deputy, dangling his power just above her head, "Take it, and we can forget all this happened. Step down, and preserve your honor." To say Sprucefeather was appalled would be an understatement. Did he truly expect her to throw away all of her hard work, in his favor? Did he truly think she'd step down and let him take everything she ever wanted? Everything she needed to keep herself content? No… no, she couldn't let him do it. She could just sit down, and she couldn't run into his game. She couldn't bound off into _his_ world, and frolic in _his _sunset. She didn't care what plans he had for her, once she was no longer a threat; if she could help it, she would let those threats be rendered void.

Turning to her Clanmates for help, all Sprucefeather could find was contempt and disapproval. How did…? How could they so easily turn on her? Perhaps… she wasn't as likable as she had once thought. Or, as far-fetched as it seemed, Spiderthorn had planned for this moment for quite some time. "Stormstar?" she asked, softly.

The old cat made a snarling sound in his throat, and growled, "Change is welcome."

Fighting back tears at the betrayal of her Clanmates, her friends, Sprucefeather rose her voice, "Then… let it be so. Appoint who you wish, Stormstar." Head hung low, Sprucefeather pushed her way through the crowd of cats, pulling out of the bramble exit just in time to hear Spiderthorn be named deputy. For a moment, Sprucefeather lifted her face, to see a clear sky. StarClan allowed this to happen? There was no way it could be proper, and yet, there wasn't even a hint of a cloud in sight. "You are not me," Sprucefeather whispered, "You have my life. But you're not me. You can take my job, my friends, the trust I had in my Clan… everything. It's yours. But you'll never be me."

Letting her paws carry her, Sprucefeather soon found herself at the lake's edge, where the cool water lapped at her paws. She stared at her own reflection (though it warbled awfully) for a while, wondering how it was so easy for Spiderthorn to turn those she loved— and thought had loved her— against her. Had she been unkind? Had she been _too _kind? What of the other Clans? Did she show them too much compassion? Was she not devoted enough to ShadowClan? Sighing, Sprucefeather rolled in the wet sand, deciding she didn't want to be found. She didn't want to go back, and face Spiderthorn. She didn't want to see the faces she'd just observed, so full of contempt and disgust. She never wanted to see it again.

Her pelt heavy and almost _slimy _with sand, Sprucefeather slunk in the shallows of the water to find a place to rest. As the tide began to rise, sand slushed off her back and into the water, as if it missed the chill. For a moment, Sprucefeather considered just finding a shady place and sleeping on the shore, when StarClan decided to scorn her further. Large, fat drops of rain seemed to fall from out of nowhere. "You're late." Sprucefeather snarled, pulling back towards the forest, "Spiderthorn has already won." Even to herself, Sprucefeather sounded bitter. Bitter and jealous. _'It's no wonder the Clan cast me aside,' _she lamented mentally, squeezing herself into a damp— but snug— tree hollow. Still, there was no mercy from StarClan. Sleep would not come for her, and neither would the relief— the escape— that came with it.

"This is the story of my life." Sprucefeather whispered, loud enough for only her to hear. But, maybe, a passing StarClan cat would catch interest, "I've… I've always tried my hardest, to make everyone I can happy. I gave it my all, and yet… with a single cat, all I've worked for is… just… gone." She closed her eyes, in a vain attempt to block out the poison from Spiderthorn's words, which had wormed its way into her heart. Like a parasite, it fed off her, it stole from her, and it left her feeling empty. And, yet, Sprucefeather couldn't bring herself to feel angry. Or even upset. It was as if a gaping hole had been torn in her life, and everything she'd ever felt had been thrown to its depths. But that wasn't exactly true. Memories of all kinds sprung into her mind, each vying for attention. Her as a kit, insisting on hunting. Her, as an apprentice, fighting a ThunderClan warrior. Her, as a warrior, defending the nursery from a fox. Of course, there were many more instances— both big and small— that crept into her consciousness. Somehow, it didn't make her feel better.

Out of nowhere, blind rage pulled a red sheet over Sprucefeather's gaze, and she found herself lashing out against the walls of the hollow, leaving deep gouge marks. Breathing heavily, and her paws aching, Sprucefeather cried, "It's not fair! I spent my life working for my Clan, and now there's nothing! There's nothing left for me! Every day… I endured all of the challenges thrown at me! I hid my pain well, and lead as strongly as you willed, StarClan! What more must I do until you're satisfied?" Slumping into a sodden lump of fur, Sprucefeather sighed, "I waited and worked so hard… I took orders… I just… I wanted someone to let me decide, for once. That's all I wanted. That's… all…" With the stress of the entire situation finding its way to her weary mind, sleep invited itself into Sprucefeather's body. It enveloped her in its warm, comforting embrace… and Sprucefeather was relieved.

:)***(:

The next morning— Sprucefeather knew it to be so, by the way the hollow was illuminated— the sounds of voices roused the former deputy from her rest. "Where could she be?" "Curse that rain, last night!" "I hope she hasn't left the territory…" "We were fools…" Vaguely intrigued, Sprucefeather sat up, and pricked her ears. By the sound of it, her Clanmates were looking for her… but, why? Did they need her as a warrior? Or as a deputy? _'Oh, StarClan,' _Sprucefeather mentally begged, _'please let them see they need me… as a deputy. As what I once was!' _Stretching out, much to the relief of her back, Sprucefeather squeezed out of the hollow. Oddly enough, when she'd entered, she hadn't even noticed how narrow the entrance was.

"There you are!" Stiffening at the sound of Spiderthorn's voice, Sprucefeather turned around. The ground, more marshy than usual, squished under her paws, and water gurgled to the surface. Hardly paying it much heed, the she-cat regarded her Clanmate with disdain. "Look… I know… you have a million reasons to hate me. But… please! I shouldn't have taken your place… I'm not you," pacing back and forth, Spiderthorn let out a long sigh, "It's all too much. I… please. The entire Clan realizes we were stupid. Come… come back!"

Inclining her head, Sprucefeather questioned, "So that's it? You turn on me, and overnight, you want me back?" shaking her head, she turned away from him, "It's not that simple."

"Give us a second chance… we… no one else can compare. My arguments were stupid, I wanted power that wasn't mine, I… I'm _sorry!_" Now, this caught Sprucefeather's focus. He was… sorry? Was she hearing correctly? Hesitating, she looked up at the sky. Dawn was long gone (apparently, Sprucefeather had slept in) and the sun was high in the sky. Somehow, despite it all, it seemed as if StarClan in all its glory had chosen to smile upon the brown she-cat, and give her that little push back towards ShadowClan. Towards all she loved, all she worked for. Taking a long, slow breath, she gave her firm answer…

"Then let me hold your crown."

* * *

**Yay for writing in the middle of the night with a headache! So, uh, yeah… I had most of this Beta'd by my awesome friends Vellie and Wolfy. Even so… if some things don't make sense, or don't go with the flow with the piece, it's my late-night writing talking. I only employed them to spell/grammar check me. XD**


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